The following tales are blogs from the road - within are bike reviews, gear reviews, advice and tales of border crossings, discussion of logistics involved in overland travel, and a bit shenanigans.​Twenty One Horses aims to inspire anyone else who wants to set-up a bike for an adventure or for that matter, charge some stoke into any adventure style by promoting our ethos of just get it done...

​Australia... our great escape - from the first gut wrenching day that we left our families on untested bikes with homemade mods and gear we hadn't used before, to packing our bikes into creates we paid for with beer - Australia gave us confidence. While the best plans can be agonized over and over, the road will introduce a plethora of unseen obstacles. We started the trip riding towards the top of Australia to put our bikes onto a container ship but on day 3 (due to uncontrollable universe like occurrences) we turned around and headed to the bottom of Australia to put our bikes onto a plane. Dirt roads through the centre of Australia tested out riding skills and our protective gear. Swells (who had never ridden a dirt bike over gravel) found confidence after eating dust and a short sojourn across his handle bars, while Johnny Bang travelling at 90 km/hr hit an extended bull dust pit and was lucky to escape with only a winding and bruises - "involuntary dismounts" became the new term. In what was both our escape and shake-down run we found that adventure is best without the hindrance of comfort and dual-purpose bikes need a dual-purpose mind set - some gear fell off our bikes but the road offered replacements, and an opportunity to swim in a river is the chance to wash road dust from bodies and clothes. Also, we drunk beer in a pub, on the end of a dirt road, while watching the sunset, stoked on adventure...

​Indonesia, our first country. We landed to find hot, muggy streets packed with a chaotic movement of people - we may as well have landed on a different planet. As our bikes where in customs and otherwise held back by the usual red tape associated with overland travel, we hired scooters and spent a few blurry days drinking, adventuring, surfing, and riding deep into an unknown jungle (at one point we chased a loose unit English ex-pat in pouring monsoonal rain just to eat at his favourite pizza shop). After receiving and assembling our bikes, we hit the road to slowly adapt to a riding style that can be closely related to the feeling a fish must have when it’s deep within a school - surfing waves then diving to avoid predators. We slept on shop floors and in prayer rooms, we ate street food and fish heads, we crossed mountain passes on poor quality dirt roads, and were escorted from a motorbike restricted modern motorway to await judgment from the local law enforcement. Swells’ Super Sherpa stalled every time it rained - and it rained a lot, as (apparently) rain is a typical feature of the south east Asian monsoon season. We met people who went out of their way to help us, we met people who went out of their way to attempt to scam us. We rode along a road watching a volcano erupt, we road along a road trying not to be ran off it by tourist busses. We searched ports for a way to Malaysia until we found a small hand built wooden boat and negotiated our bikes way on, in what felt like the last time we could see them…

​Having left our bikes strapped onto a wooden boat on a sketchy dock in Indo we land in Malaysia and head towards the port to wait nervously for their arrival. Finding none of our banks cards worked except to buy chocolate bars and packs of chips we agreed that we probably would have decided to sleep behind a service station anyways…Our bikes arrived the second morning and after an intense customs experience for one team member, we head off on the road hoping that once in Kuala Lumpur our bank cards will work. Along the way, we take a scenic route through a palm forest with no trail, where the Super Sherpa inexplicably gets stuck in a tree. Metal shards are found on an oil filter in a routine oil change, the Sherpa continues to stall until on a dark highway, with rain sheeting down an adventure bike mod is made. We experience riding with gnarly hangovers and find out that our next border crossing has the highest ‘do not travel’ warning the Australian government nerds assign…

​We entered Thailand via a border town with a strict travel warning, we immediately lost each other, riding through the dusty streets we were individually faced with a situation, strip clubs and bars tempting us, but we all rode on to find each other on the towns outskirts, no one was blown up, abducted or fleeced. Wide fast roads with clean shoulders allowed a fast-flowing riding style, racing trucks and under taking on the inside we made sweet distance each day, pushing the bikes hard. More metal shards were found as well as a fuel starvation problem arose. An accidental wildly big night on the town led to one team member not quite making it to the airport in time where his lady friend sat patiently waiting. We split up and two team members headed for another border crossing…

​Avoiding scams and negotiating border crossings without the correct paper work all whilst a team member down, Cambodia provided an interesting departure from the south-east Asia we had become accustom to. Dusty highways and an obvious gap between the haves and have nots manifested into an obstacle course of oblivious Mercedes drivers roaring through the dust leaving tractors towing people piled onto trailers coughing along in their wake. U.S currency provided the means to purchase goods as well as clearly identifying us as out of towners. A stop along the way at the Khmer Rouge killing fields left the team feeling grateful for their lives back home. The coast called, so Bang and Dan headed out to cross another border, and to find themselves in a circle of bureaucracy the likes of which only an overlander who has crossed the world could speak of in a gravelly voice while sipping rum in the back of a dingy dive bar.

​Difficult entry’s left behind, the Vietnamese roads, while in great condition – comparatively, were once again full of friendly scooters. Scooters which moved incredibly slow as the speed limit was capped to barely faster than a relaxed walking pace… Flat tyres, head on collisions, seat reconstructions, arm wrestling locals and drinking Vodka with Russians were some of the reasons that the team never actually got a surf in…

​Siam Reap called, Bang and Dan smashed the distance into a blur of random road commotion to arrive to a cheap western style hotel on the dusty outskirts of the beautiful old city. Ancient ruins were explored while the significance of the human heritage set in. A new friend was made who could ride, and in some wild style of street racing, respect was won and celebrations begun, Swells turn up after having rode solo from Bangkok and the night slipped into a blur of cheap beers, wheelie attempts, smoking, eating fish heads and getting scars for life…

​Swells was left behind in Bangkok to chill with his lady friend. A brief tale of a rad solo ride, including topics such as the differences of riding solo as compared to within the peer pressured comforts of a team and to the discovery of an island conjuring Jurassic park like themed scenarios… all is captured within the Swells rides solo blog entries…

​Unfortunately, we lost some blogs along the way… however, I have found enough loose notes and photos to continue the adventure blog. So, ride down this gnarly road of words from Cambodia, through Thailand to arrive at the “gates of Myanmar” - where the normal flow will continue again.

​A country of diverse landscapes and friendly people, Myanmar has only recently opened to the world, and requires a government approved guide, at first, we were not stoked with the perceived restriction of a guide or the cost involved but the chance to be amongst the first over-landing travellers to cross Myanmar on motorbikes was well worth these obstacles. However, we found the guide - along with his entourage, an informative and rewarding travelling style providing us with local information and made the encounters with rebels, military check points and steep bumpy mountain passes a rad experience.On the lawns of a fancy hotel we pulled apart an engine to replace some critical bike guts in an operation which lasted well into the night. We were able to source bike parts and repair some broken equipment with the help of some extremely well skilled locals, all at the local cost, we experienced no ‘tax’ for being out of towners. A camera was dropped from a bike after jumping a bump in the road, a GoPro was lost… for a while, and a phone was smashed into oblivion under the hefty weight of an oblivious knee. We rode across the longest bridge of the trip, through a deep green canyon whose steep walls soared into the sky and crossed mountain pass along with locals going about their industrious lives. Characters of all sorts got about on the road, modified farming machinery, trucks with no cabs full of human cargoes, water buffalos pulling loads of produce and bicycles were our friendly and courteous road companions. Myanmar was such a rad adventure…

​Entering India, we immediately noticed an increase of military personnel, we soon found out that the area we were riding through only recently ended a 17-year cease fire, and the very night before we entered there had been clashes between the Indian government and local rebel forces. An ominous vibe was in the air… In what could have been a trip ending mechanical problem we were forced onto the road side to conduct surgery into a critically injured bike motor guts, stat. A friendly local emerged from the curious and entertained crowed to relive tension offering a place to stay and a clear translation to the workers of a work shop whose hidden driveway we commandeered for several hours while a piston was removed and a worrying diagnosis was found…Crisis adverted we rolled onwards, out of the area we now knew to be Naggaland and into the greater India proper. Dangerous roads of varying conditions slowed our progress, the danger represented by bad road quality was nothing compared to the aggressive behaviour of fellow road users. Bright shinny trucks ruled the road, whose motor guts were free from environmental restrictions pumped thick heavy black fumes into the battle zone, on more than several encounters we were forced off the road onto dangerously eroded road sides. Cars over took each other on blindsided corners, the drivers holding their line while driving across the double white lines, staring us down, daring us to a game of chicken, forcing us to ride an extremely defensive style.At night, we fell asleep along the road side in small splattering’s of bush lands where we hoped not to awake to crowds of curious locals asking personnel question about religious views, jobs and wealth. We were pulled over by police only to be the audience to a gathering crowd. We ate soup with chicken feet from vendors on the road side, we ate bags of chips for dinner and drank warm mango drinks pushed by coke a cola. A heat wave washed across the Indian country side bringing 50 degree days testing our wet wipe showers as we rode on without stopping at a hotel. When we did stop at a hotel we were charged double the advertised price, a practice that we increasingly the party to. India pushed our steel in situations which continually compounded into harder and harder tests of keeping sanity to a normal level. Emotions were smashed when the team split, with only a small hope of reuniting in Turkey. Bang and Dan continued their ride into Pakistan while Swells headed south to ride 1500 k’s in two days in order to get the Sherpa onto a boat.